Phish Phood Vignette
by unjaundiced
Summary: Iruka was minding his own business when he saw Kakashi assaulting a pond. Iruka meets a solemn side of his friend and comes to an understanding. Cue philosophic commentary.  short v. of Phish Phood, still different


Part of a, possibly, small series I'm working on called "Seasons in the Sun" under the "Food for Thought" sub-header. Plan on more appearance from this universe sometime within our lifetimes.

There's a longer, somewhat similar but still different, version I wrote this in the middle of.

* * *

**Food For Thought :: Phish Phood Vignette**

Ignore the tenses. The way it was started, it should have continued in passive tense, but writing a whole bit in passive tense was annoying to read.

It was late afternoon on a brisk autumn day that Umino Iruka, Konoha Chuunin, Academy sensei, and all-around nice guy, found himself in a strange quandary. He'd been walking home from school, minding his own business. That day, he'd been freed from Missions Office slavery early and had planned to go on a quick jaunt through the forest before going home to make himself some hot pot. He had a lot of leftovers and bits that wouldn't make a meal on their own but might just make a rather tasty nabe.

In any case, he'd been walking on a high dirt road that formed a saddle between a series of housing districts when he'd chanced a look to the side and seen a familiar Jounin with a wild bushy haircut assaulting a pool of water. To be honest, it was less that Kakashi was assaulting the water as it was that he was trying to feed fish - assumingly.

Iruka had stopped in curiosity at first, then to gape in surprise at his friend. Normally the aloof Jounin would be found napping in the spidery black arms of a naked cherry tree or hidden by the bright orange and red flames of a maple reading a similarly flamboyant Icha Icha this time of year. Today Kakashi had been sitting on a rock on the side of a dirt road flinging pieces of bread at a small still pond. Iruka hadn't been sure if it was a really small pond or a really large puddle of water that Kakashi might possibly, out of his ever-loving and, at times, completely insane mind, call a pond.

Against his will, Iruka found himself sitting on the log next to Kakashi's rock and peering into the water, squinting against the white and blue reflections of the sky. Kakashi, still silent with his abuse of both bread and water, had scooted off the rock and onto the log, forcing Iruka to shuffle his rear.

"Kakashi-san, what are you doing," Iruka questioned, stifling a glare and casting him a sidelong glance.

"Feeding fish," was all Kakashi had to say.

Iruka waited a moment but there was no more. Thick, soggy pieces of bread floated on the surface of the pond/puddle, breaking up the clouds. He chanced a glance at Kakashi again, wondering if he should recommend the Copy Nin for psychiatric evaluation.

"I see," was all he could say.

"You think I'm crazy," Kakashi said, sounding utterly bored.

"Not crazy, so much as I don't see the point," Iruka uttered calmly - as if he would ever be caught dead calling Kakashi crazy to his face.

"They're in there. They're just not coming up. I think they're shy." Kakashi was nothing if not determined.

"Kakashi-san, fish don't eat very much when it's cold out," Iruka hesitated. "Maybe they're just not hungry."

"They have to be," Kakashi frowned. He then poked at the water with a stick, sending up a swirl of muck. Iruka still couldn't see any fish.

"I'm not sure why you're doing this," Iruka said quietly, startling when a flash of orange flickered through the blue.

"There they are," Kakashi said with a quiet glee.

Iruka could only watch dumbfounded as the blue and white sky began to bubble black with the gasping mouths of fish. Soon the surface was roiling with the puckering, popping mouths of feeding koi. The blue and white flashed brilliant shades of red, orange, and deep black.

As Kakashi kept throwing bits of bread, Iruka found himself captivated by the strange sight. Even stranger still was when Pakkun trotted up to Kakashi dragging bags of day-old bread. Pakkun merely nodded in greeting to Iruka before coming to sit next to him on the log.

"Brat has some strange hobbies," Pakkun muttered. "But it keeps him whole."

Iruka raised an eyebrow but said nothing. In a flash, the koi burst out of the pond in an upward flying fountain of writhing slick flesh and fins. Ribbons of bright greens, purples, yellows, pinks, and blues pulsed in and around the fish. He suddenly realised that there were fish made from chakra in and amongst the real living fish. The mass of bodies slid smoothly back into the water with a series of small splashes. Iruka blinked then slid a slow glance at Kakashi.

"Kakashi-san, may I ask why you are feeding these fish in particular," he asked slowly.

"Redemption," came the response with no hesitation.

"Redemption?"

"I've done a lot of terrible things in my life. I guess, in some way, I feel like I have to make amends now."

"By feeding fish."

"I just feel terrible all the time. The things I've done- at the time, they seemed like the right thing to do. They were the right thing to do; but they were still terrible things. I haven't been as good a person as I probably should and there are things I could have done differently, people I could have treated better. But it's too late for that. Maybe I'm getting old, but I feel sorry all the time."

Iruka couldn't think of anything to say. He knew that he and Kakashi had philosophical conversations and questioned the value of their lives and their work, but he never really had an insight as to where Kakashi's head was. Pakkun just grunted and rested his head on Iruka's thigh, closing his eyes but still listening.

"It won't make up for anything, but I feel like I'm doing something, doing this. These fish? Their lives are very simple. They live. They swim. They breathe. They eat food. I can't make them live. I can't help them swim or breathe, but I can feed them. They don't need me but they like it when I come. I'm worth something to them. It makes me... It makes me feel good. I'm trying to fix things."

"One fish at a time?"

"One fish at a time."

"So why are there some made of chakra?"

Kakashi didn't speak for a few moments, choosing to continue throwing bread into the mass of hungry mouths. When he spoke again, it was more a thoughtful sound than actual words.

"Once, when I was still an active ANBU member, I was issued a search-and-destroy mission. I was supposed to infiltrate an enemy camp, steal a series of scrolls, and destroy them. Only..." Kakashi paused, fingers frozen over the pond, bread crumbs trickling down like rain.

Iruka waited, concerned. Pakkun creaked open an eye but said nothing.

"The scrolls were false," Kakashi continued a breath later, as if he hadn't stopped, fingers busily flicking bread crumbs at the water. "The information I needed to seek and destroy was contained within a Genin teenager. The boy could copy and steal chakra types and certain jutsu. It was his Kekkai Genkai. When I took him from the camp, he begged me to kill him. His eyes... His eyes were very heavy. He said he bore the weight of many souls and they lived in him like worms and were eating him alive. He couldn't even be harmed with traditional weapons because the chakra protected him like a suit of armor.

"When I put my Chidori through him, his Kekkai Genkai reacted with my Sharingan and all the stolen chakra and jutsu came writhing out. He was right. They were worms gnawing their way out of him in anger and vengeance. When they came out, I couldn't stop them and the Sharingan subdued and absorbed them against my will. I think that boy was at peace when he died. He said, 'Thank you.' He thanked me for destroying his life. He was probably only fifteen." Kakashi's voice had taken on a raw and hardened edge.

Iruka swallowed down the thick lump that had formed in his throat. He could see the silhouette of Kakashi's face tighten, his visible eye dark with bad memories. Pakkun had both eyes open now; waiting.

"The foreign chakra lived in me for a long time. They were with me all through my years as ANBU. Somehow, though, they changed when they entered me. They weren't gnawing worms anymore. They became writhing fish that swam and coiled in my belly. They were heavy and annoying, but not painful. It was a few years later that my Sharingan showed me the jutsu it had stolen from the boy that allowed me to pull the chakra from bodies. I modified it to pull chakra from mine."

"And so the fish," Iruka breathed.

"The fish are foreign chakra. They are also my own tainted chakra. They are regrets and bad memories. When I take a life, my body is automatically tainted by some of that person's chakra which incubates in me, becoming heavier and heavier. I slough it all off like a snake sheds its skin and it appears as a fish. I don't know why they're only fish, but they're fish. And I take care of them. I give them a place to swim, breathe, and live. I feed them.

"I guess, I'm just trying to ask for forgiveness for taking their lives; for all the bad things I've done in my life. I don't know how else to apologise to the dead. And when I'm dead, I assume the jutsu ends too and they're finally freed. Even now, seeking redemption, I'm hurting them."

"Do you..." Iruka paused. Pakkun perked a droopy ear and looked up at Iruka. "Do you think you could teach me that jutsu?

"Why would you, an Academy sensei, who helps even the smallest of flowers bloom to their greatest potential, have a need of such knowledge," Kakashi asked quietly, eye sliding to Iruka's face for the first time. A thousand questions lived there.

"Maybe," Iruka said, reaching out to snag a few pieces of bread from Kakashi's hand, thinking of all the students he'd trained to kill and of those who had been killed themselves. "Maybe I need a little saving too."

Pakkun whuffed and closed his eyes, head lolling on Iruka's thigh. Beneath Kakashi's mask, his lips rose in a slight smile and he dusted his fingers off to show Iruka the signs.


End file.
